


Valley Forge

by anotherfngrl



Series: The Alexander Hamilton D/s Verse [8]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton is George Washington & Martha Washington's Adopted Son, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Background Poly, Dom Hercules Mulligan, F/M, Family, Family Feels, George Washington is a Dad, Hercules Mulligan is a Good Friend, M/M, Mom Friend Hercules Mulligan, Polyamory, Revolutionary War, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Snow, Snow and Ice, Sub Alexander Hamilton, Switch John Laurens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28580175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherfngrl/pseuds/anotherfngrl
Summary: Five times one of them thought THAT winter was the worst winter of their lives.And one time they didn't.**Note: This is one of my follow up fic to Hamilton For The Holidays. It is part of my D/s verse. There is no sexual content in this fic, the rating is for the subject matter of the verse.**
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette & George Washington & Martha Washington, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens/Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/Hercules Mulligan, George Washington/Martha Washington
Series: The Alexander Hamilton D/s Verse [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919644
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Valley Forge

**Author's Note:**

> Someone asked how the Revolutionary Set and the Washingtons handled THAT winter at Valley Forge, after all of the fluffy winter fic about them I wrote for Hamilton For The Holidays. So, here's how it goes!

1 Washington

George feels like all he does is worry, when things get bad that winter. He worries over strategy and potential mutiny due to lack of supplies and the suffering of his men. Then he comes home and worries at the way John shivers in the cold, or how thin Alex is looking. He worries about Martha, being with them in this place that’s so full of tension and unrest, worries he’s selfish for needing her too much to send her away.

He and the boys plan raid after raid, and it’s just barely enough. They’re subsisting, almost. Alex’s impassioned letters to Congress win them promises of help and supplies, but it’s always ‘later’ and ‘soon’ and ‘we’re working on it’. Sometimes George wonders if a caravan of supplies is going to arrive in the Spring, only for the snow to melt and the Congress to realize there’s no Army left, they’ve all wasted away from the lack.

All of their energy is spent on just surviving the winter. They don’t have the strength or the resources to advance their cause, at this point. They’re just trying to survive long enough to fight another day. It’s different, when the enemy is winter and need, instead of soldiers. He can’t shoot them, or order the cannons fired. It’s not a battle George feels equipped to win.

He’s not sure how he’d endure the stress, without Martha. Even when there’s nothing, she makes their home feel warm. All they’ve eaten in weeks is soup, it seems like, because she’s figured out how to stretch the meager food they’ve got- he won’t give himself or the boys more rations than any other soldier, not when things are this dire- into a large pot of soup she’s continually adding to with anything they manage to get.

He’s grateful every day for the warmth she brings to their camp and his life.

The boys are a comfort, as well. He knows sending Hercules back to New York was the right call, but it breaks his heart to see the young men he’s left behind miss him, when they’re all missing so much else besides. Occasionally, he wonders how on earth he expects to protect a nation when he can barely care for his own family, but Alex, Gil, and John’s faith in him gives him the strength to keep fighting, each day.

2 Laf

Lafayette has never gone without, before.

There’s never been a time in his life where there was a physical need he couldn’t get met, or a desire he couldn’t fulfill. It’s staggering, the realization that he’s helpless in the face of the winter and the shortages. At first, it stuns him.

Then, it makes him fight. He leads daring raids, following Alex’s clever plans and Hercules’ smuggled information. Kisses Alexander and John goodbye and tells them to take care of each other as he sets off on a midnight run. Frets when it’s one or both of them out there- Washington at least never sends Alex out without himself, John, or Laf anymore.

He thinks losing Alex would destroy them all.

Luckily, even when the sub chafes under their protection, he seems to recognize just how worn down and scared they are, and how much they need him safe. He resents it- he throws a metal cup at John’s head one day, because the switch refuses to let him sign up for a hunting party. But even as he fights their protection, he bows to it in the end.

“It is not a matter of whether you are strong enough to fight, ma petit,” Laf tries to explain to him after the cup throwing incident. John has sequestered himself in the kitchen, the only room warm enough to retreat to besides the family room, saying he can’t deal with Alex right now. Even as keyed up as he is, the comment has clearly wounded Alexander. “It is entirely a matter of whether we are strong enough to have you out of reach.”

“You’re not even a Dom, Laf, why are  _ you _ being so overprotective?” Alex laments.

“Because I love you. Because you are precious to me, ma petit lion, and you are one of the only truly bright spots we have in this darkness,” he explains.

“You love John, too. You don’t baby him like this. Washington sends both of  _ you _ out without a buddy,” Alex whines.

“I do not know how to explain it. It is not that I see John as stronger, or that being more Dominant makes him more… durable. I am not Dominant, any more than I am submissive, and yet John has the same reaction to me. It is… you are the heart, of all of us. Without our heart, we would be lost,” Laf explains.

Alex grumbles at him petulantly. “Alexander, I have none of the comforts I am used to. I have never imagined a life like this. The one comfort I have is knowing our home, however cold and desperate it may be, waits for me when I return. And you are the center of that home. Please do not take that from me, too,” he tells the young sub, unable to help pleading.

Alex looks up at him, then. Really looks at him. “I’m sorry, Laf,” he says softly. “I don’t know how to just… wait at home. I just don’t,” he admits.

“I will discuss with the General sending you out more with one of us, if you will stop pushing to go alone,” Laf concedes. It claws at him, imagining John  _ and _ Alex out there, in danger where he can’t protect them, but it’s better than the alternative.

“I wouldn’t be alone,” Alex huffs. “There’d be other soldiers.”

“There wouldn’t be other Family members, Alex. it’s not the same thing, ma cherie. They do not know what you mean to us,” Laf explains.

“You’re all ridiculous, but I’ll try to push less. Just because you’re so whiny when you’re worried,” Alex says, trying for a joke.

Laf wraps him in a hug, kissing him soundly and uncaring if he’s being mocked. “That is all we ask, our little lion.”

3 Herc

Nothing in Hercules’ life has ever been as hard as being away from the others when he knows they’re suffering. He’s needed in New York- he’s invaluable here, he’s in the perfect position. But it tears at him, being so far away.

He channels all of that nervous energy into knitting. Every time he sends reports back to Valley Forge, he sends socks, or a hat, or wrist warmers that can go over their gloves. Just a small thing each time, but each one knitted with love.

He cycles through knitting for each of them. Alex, then John, then Laf. And he tucks a note, addressed only with an initial, into whatever he’s made. He hopes his words of love and reassurance help. He hopes his love can keep them warm.

He pays special attention to any discussion of supply lines or resources. He becomes almost rabid with it, determined to send word of any shipment moving around that might help them. This is how he takes care of the people he loves right now, by giving them the information they need to take care of themselves.

He knits quickly, because he sleeps less than he’s used to. His bed feels too big, without Gil’s snoring or Alex worming his way under his arm or John kicking him. He’s never resented his unbruised shins before.

He feels guilty when he puts a log on the fire, or sits down for a meal. How he wishes he could send them wood and food. He’d smuggle them the entire city if he could. But the runners who take his news have to travel light. They can’t be weighed down by the supplies he wants to send, can’t risk being captured because they were slowed down in any way.

So he waits, and he worries, and he knits. He listens, and he writes down what he hears, and he never goes a moment without thinking of them and worrying. He knows they’re strong and brave. He knows they love each other as much as he loves them and they’ll look after one another.

He just doesn’t know if it’ll be enough.

4 Mama M

Martha makes hope her job, when it stops being something she can feel without trying.

She finds hope, and when it’s nowhere to be found, she makes it. She hopes because someone’s got to, because she’s not a soldier or a strategist but there is something very real that her family needs, that she can provide.

She needs to believe in them, when their belief in themselves falters.

George doubts himself as a leader as the soldiers grow restless. Worries about his ability to hold the Army together, and to see their little family safely through the upset. She pulls him to her, leans against him, trusting. His arms come around her, automatically protective. When she tilts her head up, he strokes her cheek and kisses her with just as much sureness as he ever has.

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” he admits.

“You’ll never have to find out,” she promises.

“Anything could happen-” he argues.

She smiles at him, confident. “Not with you here to protect me.”

“You aren’t afraid to be here? You could go somewhere without these shortages,” he offers.

“I could never be as safe as I am at your side. And whatever we lack that Virginia has, in these times, Virginia lacks the one thing I need most of all, right now. It lacks you,” she tells her husband.

“Thomas would see you were taken care of,” he tells her.

Young Thomas Jefferson is governor of the colony, after all. He’s been a loyal supporter of her husband, since talk of Revolution began.

“I’m taken care of much better here,” she tells her husband. “I want to be with you, and provide what comfort I can. You take care of our future, our home, our army. And let me take care of you.”

“I’m the luckiest man alive,” George says, kissing her.

In that moment, Martha finds hope again. Because George is leading the way, and if anyone can find a way out of this horrible winter, it’s her husband.

She leans against his chest and smiles, feeling, in this moment at least, warm and safe.

And hopeful.

  1. John



John isn’t sure, at first, that he’s going to be strong enough for this.

Winter this far North is  _ beautiful, _ with snow falling and the stillness that comes from animals migrating and hibernating. Yes, it’s cold. Unpleasantly so, as Alex has reminded him every snowfall since they joined the Army.

John still thinks the snow is beautiful, but he respects it more, now. It’s not a soft, delicate, pretty thing. It’s fierce, and powerful, and often underestimated.

It reminds him of Alex.

Except, where the snow is cold, Alex is the warmth he clings to, during this difficult time. The metaphoric fire in the hearth that guides him home.

He’s not a city boy, like Laf or even Alex. John grew up in South Carolina, and he knows how to hunt.

So he goes with the hunting parties, as often as he goes with the raiding ones. He brings back what he can for their little family, his share of whatever they’re able to find.

He even sets traps, hoping to catch any small animals he can. And no matter how meager his offerings, Mama M smiles at him and tells him what a good boy he is for taking care of them all and adds it to the soup, stretching the small amounts he’s able to bring as far as she can, along with their quickly dwindling rations.

John worries it’s not going to last. The supplies, their strength, any of it. He catches himself becoming short with the others, snappish. He questions the General, regretting it almost immediately. Washington doesn’t yell at him, doesn’t shame him for his outbursts. He just explains, and makes him see reason.

He fights with Laf about Alex, too.

Not over Alex. They could never fight over Alex. They all love one another, and that feeling moves between them as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. But they disagree about what’s best for the youngest member of their little family, over and over.

Laf insists that Alex is going to do something reckless, if they try to keep him too sheltered. He pushes to let Alex do more- not alone, thank God. Not without one of them. But he says it’s better for Alex to go out with them, on a raid or a hunt, than for him to sneak out on his own.

John gets it. And he never wants to stifle Alex’s independence. Alex deserves his independence. He has just as much right to risk his life as any of the rest of them. Rationally, John absolutely respects that Alex gets to make his own decisions.

Emotionally, it doesn’t quite go like that.

John can’t fight the terror that grips him, imagining something happening to Alex. He actually floats the idea of sending the younger soldier to New York, to Herc, to ride the winter out.

Laf drags him out of the room before Alex can eviscerate him. Points out what a terrible plan that is- for one thing, Alex trying to get back with the scouts would be far more dangerous than a scout traveling alone. For another, the winter is fierce and there’s always a chance of someone who leaves on a long journey being caught in a blizzard. And most damning of all, Alex is a  _ known _ revolutionary. He’s made a name for himself. It’s highly unlikely, even if he survived the trip to New York, that he could join Hercules without being recognized and damning them both.

John has the grace to be ashamed of himself. He apologizes, and assures them both he’ll drop the idea. Blames it on exhaustion. Alex doesn’t forgive him, not right away, but he does do his sulking that night while sleeping pressed to John’s chest, which is something.

John knows he’s trying to control Alex because he feels so out of control, himself. He recognizes the Dominant coping mechanism, which he’s always hated in others. He realizes he’s dealing with a mild case of Dom drop, and tells Laf- he doesn’t want Alex to think he’s making excuses- and the non-dynamic man doesn’t  _ understand, _ really, but he helps where he can.  _ His _ brain chemistry doesn’t get all screwed up at the idea of being helpless, or failing the people he loves, after all.

After that, John focuses more on what he  _ can _ do, even if it’s tiny things. He helps Alex write. Not just to Congress. They write every governor, every merchant they can think of, and they do their best to stir up enough patriotism to motivate support. He continues hunting and trapping, reminding himself every time they eat that, while Mama M  _ made _ the meal, he helped provide the ingredients. And he’s absolutely vicious on raids, completely focused and determined and, according to some of the soldiers he goes out with, absolutely terrifying in the heat of combat.

It’s not perfect. John isn’t proud of the cracks in his belief system, the way instinct wins out occasionally over enlightened thinking. He’d like to think he’s above the controlling, hyper-Dominant impulses stress has brought out in him. But he isn’t, so instead he does his best to keep himself under control, trusting Laf to pull him back when he gets too close to snapping.

1 Alex

It’s not the worst winter Alex has ever had.

Yes, they’re constantly hungry. But Alex has been hungry before. He’s used to it. And somehow, it’s easier to be hungry  _ together. _

Alex has gone hungry before not because there wasn’t food  _ available, _ but because as the bastard, orphan, submissive clerk with the smart mouth, he was often denied basic comforts as a way to control his behavior.

It never cowed him, the way his employer had hoped. Instead, it made him resilient. He relies on that resilience now. He knows how to keep his mind sharp, through the hunger. Knows how to appreciate what little they have, instead of dwelling on all of the things they don’t.

He appreciates John’s hunting and Mama M’s soup, because even if they have so little, they’re all doing their best to take care of each other. His heart’s full, even if his belly never is.

He’d been wholly unprepared for winters in America, coming from the Caribbean, and this one, extreme as it is, is no different. He treasures Hercules’ gifts, which keep him warm _ er, _ even if sometimes it feels like he’ll never be warm again. He misses the other man, but he keeps the little scraps of paper Herc scribbles loving notes on, treasuring them as jealously as he does the warm socks, or the soft hat.

And, though he’s the one the  _ least _ equipped for the cold, Alex is also the one who is the most prepared to adapt to it. His mother had always held him, when it was cold or he was sick. Sleeping together, they could conserve warmth and find comfort in not being alone. When it got cold his first winter in America, Laf teased him for being a cuddle monster.

“Warm. Mine,” he often whines at the others in the morning, when one of them tries to get up before he’s ready. It’s become an unspoken agreement that none of them breeches the sanctity of the blankets until they’re all ready for the blast of cold air.

On the worst nights, he gathers them  _ all _ in the sitting room. It’s got a fireplace, and they use what little wood John has brought back from checking his traps to keep it going. The first night it gets that cold, he drags their bed into the common area, then goes to get Mama M and the General.

“We’re sleeping by the fire. You should too,” he tells Martha. Washington and Laf are in the kitchen- they’ve turned the kitchen table into the war room, since the old war room tended to be so cold they couldn’t bend their fingers well enough to grip a quill- discussing a potential trip home for Laf, to secure supplies. Alex knows they need the help desperately, but he still doesn’t want him to go.

“Very smart,” she tells him, gathering up the blankets while he maneuvers their mattress to the sitting room. John helps him spread the two mattresses as close to the fire as possible, butting them up against each other.

“This isn’t the time for privacy,” Mama M says approvingly, spreading the blankets from both beds out to most efficiently cover them  _ all. _

Laf and the General come in then, looking surprised. “What are you three up to?” Washington asks.

John shrugs. “Alex’s idea,” he reports.

“The fire isn’t strong enough for the warmth to reach our rooms. The kitchen’s against that wall, and between that and this fire here, I think we can stay decently warm. If we all sleep in here,” Alex explains. “Body heat will help even if the fire goes out.”

“Your plan for surviving this god-forsaken winter is cuddling, ma petit?” Laf teases him.

Alex rolls his eyes at him. “I just want to keep you from freezing into a french icicle and stabbing me to death with your hair,” he tells the other man. He looks at the General. “Should I have waited for your permission? I was just thinking about getting everybody warm as quickly as possible,” he says, hesitantly.

“No, this is a very good idea. And since we’re all done working for the evening, I think we should go ahead and get ready for bed. We can tell stories beside the fire, and start building up that body heat until we’re tired enough to sleep. It was a good idea, son,” Washington tells him.

Alex grins at the praise. He braids his hair back so it doesn’t get in anyone’s mouth (he’s always the little spoon, and whoever wraps around him inevitably wakes up with hair in their teeth if he doesn’t) and braves outside long enough to do his business, meeting the others back in the sitting room as they do the same.

“How are we doing this?” John asks.

“I’ll take the outside,” Washington decides. “Then we’ll put Martha and then Alex in the middle. I’ll let you boys decide your side,” he says.

Alex is pleased- Mama M has been shivering, and pressed between himself and the General, she’ll hopefully be able to warm up.

“I’ll take the outside on our end,” John volunteers immediately.

“Nonsense,” Laf tells him. “You thrash around and kick when you can’t find Alexander,” he reminds John.

Who blushes heavily at having that particular weakness spoken in front of the Washingtons. “I’ll be fine,” he says stiffly.

“Non, mon coeur. I am also more used to cold temperatures. I will be fine on the outside. You will keep me warm, and Alexander, in between us,” Laf insists.

John looks like he’s going to argue, but Laf raises an eyebrow at him, crossing his arms and looking for all the world like a teacher just waiting for a dim pupil to catch up. John blows out a frustrated breath.

“C’mon, John. I need you to keep me warm,” Alex teases, going ahead and sliding into the nest they’ve created. Mama M has layered the blankets offset, creating a more complete, solid coverage to trap warmth and leaving enough overhang on the ends that the people at each end can wrap the blanket underneath to trap the heat. He smiles at her appreciatively when he sees how she’s arranged things, and she smiles back, joining him under the blankets.

Washington climbs in without further concern, too, and John huffs out a breath and gives in to Laf, taking the spot beside Alex. Laf climbs into the nest last, wrapping himself tightly around John’s back. John wraps himself around Alex in turn, and Washington has Mama M in his arms, and she turns to hold onto Alex as well. He’s completely surrounded by his family. He feels warmer already, tangling his sock clad feet with John’s and feeling Laf poke him with one bony, wool covered toe.

“Mes amis used to pile in front of the fire like this after a skiing trip. We’d take off our wet layers, spread them out, and keep each other warm while they dried,” Laf reports.

“I’ve never been skiing,” John says.

“I’ve never even seen skis,” Alex agrees.

Laf entertains them with stories of skiing adventures, including a time a particularly rude young man had been so busy flirting with Adrienne he’d crashed into a tree. He’d been unharmed, as he’d had time to slow down when she cried out, but a large quantity of snow had fallen on him, to everyone’s amusement.

That leads to a story from Washington about digging out trenches in the snow during the war with the French and the Natives, and how they’d tried to sculpt seats and little shelves in their snow trenches while they waited in position.

“It snows in Virginia, sometimes,” Martha tells them, sharing a story of one snowstorm when she was a girl, and the snowman she’d made to look like her father- with his own hat and pipe. She strokes Alex’s hair as she finishes her story. “Those are good memories.”

“I’d never seen real snow until I came North,” John reports. Laf had taken him ice skating, his first winter in New York, and he fondly recalls stumbling around and falling before he’d gotten the hang of it.

“All of my happy snow and ice memories involve you all,” Alex confesses when John finishes. “I’ve really only seen real, American winters while I’ve been in the Army.”

“What would you like to try?” Laf asks.

“There’s a game I’ve heard about- hockey,” Alex muses.

“Ah, yes, with the big stick and the little balls,” Laf says.

“Laf!” John laughs, shocked.

“Oh! Pardon! Mama M, I am deeply sorry. I did not realize the implications of my words,” Laf says, burying his face in John’s back, embarrassed. The innuendo had apparently been automatic.

“I should hope not,” Mama M tells him sternly. “But was that what you were talking about, Alex?” she asks.

“Yes. You play it on ice! Some of my classmates mentioned it, when I was still in school before the fighting really started,” Alex explained. “Maybe when the war’s over, I’ll learn to play.”

“Quick little thing like you, you’d be great on skates,” John says. “I’ll play you, someday.”

“It will take both of you to defeat me. I am an accomplished skater,” Laf teases them.

They rib each other good naturedly about this imaginary future hockey game, until Mama M insists Washington teach Alex to skate properly before he’s allowed anywhere near a frozen pond with his overenthusiastic friends. They all laugh, and continue planning a future where winter is a fun adventure, again, not the most harrowing challenge they’ve faced together.

The planning lasts until they all begin to fall asleep, curled together in front of their weak fire. It may be a hard winter, but, surrounded as he is by the warmth of love, Alex can’t think of it as a terrible one. No matter how brutally storms rage outside, they’ve got each other in here.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, as far as the follow up fic: My goal is to have *something* for every prompt posted by the end of the day tomorrow. Some of them will be ongoing (the Meet the Parents fic will take a week or two to wrap, and the roleplay one may continue for a while, as I come up with more scenarios) but I'll have something for each of them. Then, I'll have to decide what I'm going to tackle next in the verse.
> 
> Which sounds better: the inaguration and Alex adjusting to Aaron being in DC without him, or Nonstop era preslash?? TBH I'm excited about both, but I can't decide which to jump into (I have some future fic pre-written, but it's FARTHER future.)
> 
> Please, please let me know what you think, and what you want to see coming up in the verse! Much love to all of my amazing readers. You guys are the best.


End file.
